


The Centre of the Beast

by AndreyaHalms



Series: Ria's AUs [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fem!Sirius, HP world adapted to fit the witcher universe, Netflix's Witcher, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Witcher!Remus, an acromantula is involved, child surprise, i just wanted to write fem!sirius, no prior knowledge of witcher required to read this, or to follow the plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22990456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreyaHalms/pseuds/AndreyaHalms
Summary: A Witcher and a sorceress walk into a bar.(Basically a retelling of the first episode of Netflix's Witcher where Remus is a slightly more talkative Geralt and Sirius is some sort of a Renfri/Yen hybrid.)
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Ria's AUs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774651
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. The Witcher

**Author's Note:**

> A retelling of Netflix’s first Witcher episode ft. our favourite boys (except one of them is a girl). The first 2 chapters follow the series, stuff changes from the 3rd chapter. I don’t think any prior knowledge of the IP is necessary to read this.
> 
> Title taken from This is Where It Falls Apart by All Them Witches.
> 
> All recognizable elements and characters (and boy, ain't there a lot of those) belong to their respective owners. Everything else is me abusing my, well, artistic license lol.

The night is muted shades of grey and black. The fawn, four weeks old and freshly orphaned, forages in the undergrowth, drawn to the mire by the succulent-sweet scent of well-watered shrubbery. The gentle gurgling of water punctuates the air, and the odd fauna rustles, knowing better than to be out while sinister things lurk in the interpenetration of chaos and reality.

A quiet bubble pops on the swamp's surface and the fawn lifts its head, curious. It steps closer to the bank to investigate. The forest falls silent, as if holding its collective breath. Waiting.

The water boils and a cottage-sized acromantula bursts out, holding man in one of its claw-tipped forelimbs. The man chops off the offending appendage with a grunt and a practiced swing of his silver sword and drops to his feet. The acromantula rears back, snarling with pain and rage.

The man’s eyes are obsidian black, from the pupils to the irises to the sclera. He parries the angry monster’s attacks with his forearm and sword, slashing to maim rather than kill. The centre, he knows, is the brain.

He moves back with each slash, making the acromantula draw out its reach centimetre by centimetre, widening the gaps in its defence. He finds his opportunity soon. With a well-timed twirl under the attacking limbs, he stabs the screeching beast through its needle-teeth-rimmed vertical mouth and straight through the brain.

The forest exhales.

The man pulls out his sword, grimacing slightly when thick, viscous blood splatters down on his face. The acromantula lists sideways and sinks slowly to the ground with a quiet groan. Its slayer - they call his kind Witchers, mutated monster hunters who've broken free from the shackles of humanity - takes a moment to catch his breath before wading back to the shore. He pauses when he spots the fawn, which now has a rather nasty-looking gash along its side where it’d caught one of the acromantula’s flailing limbs.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Remus sighs. He switches out the silver in his hand for steel as his eyes fade back to their feline-yellow. “Today isn’t your day, is it?”

* * *

It’s morning by the time Remus rides into Budleigh Babberton. It’s a small and rather uninteresting village, except it does have an alderman that’s open to those of his kind, whom Remus hopes to do some business with. He heads towards the tavern, tying his horse and his spoils from last night in the stables outside.

A hush falls over the pub when Remus enters, the lively fiddle tune screeching to a metallic halt. His boots are loud as he makes his way towards the bar, which is occupied by only one other customer - a woman in a scarlet cloak.

“What will it be?” The barmaid asks him.

He places the flyer he’d found in front of her and taps it once. “Point me to the alderman’s house, please.”

“Sure,” the barmaid says brightly. “It’s down the alley, to the left--”

“ _L_ _avender_ ,” a man interrupts, coming up to her behind the bar and placing some mugs with a clang. He gives her a look and she leaves without a word, head ducked.

The man steps closer to Remus, back straight. “We don’t want your kind here, _Witcher_.”

Remus smiles mildly. “The alderman. Tell me where he is, and I’ll be on my way.”

“You don’t give the orders around here,” another man says. He gets up from his table, and Remus can’t help but think that the man has _uncommonly_ yellow teeth, and Remus has seen his fair share of yellow teeth. He pegs him somewhere between a thug and a bandit. “Best fuck off, you mutant son of a bitch.”

Remus raises his eyebrows.

“You hear that?” the innkeeper says. “Go on your own or at the end of a rope. You decide.”

Remus decides that it’s really not worth it. “Not a hard choice,” he says, and turns to leave.

“Yeah, fuck that,” the innkeeper says suddenly, seemingly taking offence to Remus' cooperation. He calls out to the thug. “Kill him with your bare hands if you got to.”

The thug grins as more of his mates start getting up from their table to join him. “Come on, Witcher. Not scared of us, are ya?”

Remus grimaces. “Look, you really don’t want to do this. I really don’t want to do this.”

“Show us what you got,” the first thug sneers, flicking open a knife. Remus’ fingers twitch reflexively.

“For Lilith’s sake, can you not leave it alone for a moment?” A female voice drawls out from somewhere a couple of steps behind Remus. He reckons it belongs to the other patron, the one in the rich scarlet cloak, who had been the only one at the bar when he’d entered.

The thugs pause.

The innkeeper does not move his eyes from Remus. “Witchers can’t be trusted.”

“Wasn’t speaking to you,” the woman says dismissively. She directs her voice at Remus. “I apologise for my man’s interference in your day. Hopefully he can improve his behaviour before tomorrow’s market.”

The thugs shift uneasily. There’s another beat of silence.

“Sorry, Sirius,” the head thug says reluctantly. “Come on, lads.”

"Thank you," Sirius hums. “Now, a beer for my friend here and one for me, please.”

Remus finally turns to look at her. She’s tall, with black hair, grey eyes and an insouciant slouch. There’s a piece of bread in her right hand.

“I’m speaking to you _now_ , good sir,” Sirius tells the innkeeper, who’s still glaring at Remus. The innkeeper scoffs, and with that, the tension permeating the room breaks. The music picks back up and the chatter around them resumes.

Sirius turns a charming smile onto Remus and holds up her sandwich. “Want some breakfast?”

“No, thanks,” Remus says. “I’m full. Venison.”

She shrugs and goes back to her food. The innkeeper places a mug in front of her and another in front of Remus. Remus takes a sip from his, and then watches with mild amazement as Sirius chugs her entire drink down like water.

Sirius catches Remus’ eyes as she wipes her mouth and grins. Her lipstick, a slash of red to match her cloak, remains intact. “My mother - God rest her horrible soul - would be mortified.”

Remus tips his mug in her direction. “Our secret, then.”

Sirius’ grin grows wider and she saunters towards Remus. “So, what brings you to Budleigh, Golden Eyes? A monster?”

“I was travelling through the forest. I merely happened to stumble upon the acromantula.”

“Well, that’d be your mistake then. Why wouldn’t you be travelling through the main roads?”

“It’s hard to make a living on the main roads.”

Sirius orders two more beers and looks Remus up and down. “Yeah, you do desperately need money for new clothes,” she says, almost leering.

“Maybe you can help me find some,” Remus replies. He can't help but notice that Sirius has an exquisite bone structure.

Sirius smirks, sharp and dangerous. "Oh, I'm sure I can."

The moment is broken by the innkeeper, who places an entire jug of beer in front of Sirius. He leaves, but not before spitting in Remus’ direction.

Sirius sighs and pours herself a drink. “More and more, I find monsters wherever I go.”

“People are allowed to their fears,” Remus says, dismissive, and holds out his mug for a refill. 

Something blazes in Sirius’ pale eyes, dark and mercurial, but it’s gone as soon as it had come.

“People shouldn’t have to be afraid of other people, Witcher,” she says simply.

“Call me Remus.”

Sirius gestures at the coin-sized wolf medallion around Remus’ neck with her chin. “Of the House of Wolves. I go by Sirius Black. Good to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

They’re interrupted by a young girl of about twelve. She’s wearing earrings of what seem to be radishes and a necklace made of corks and reaches up to Remus’ elbow. “How much coin for your acromantula, then?”

Sirius raises a questioning eyebrow at him. He finishes his beer and follows the girl out of the tavern, who starts telling him about all the monsters she had always wanted as pets.

He doesn’t notice Sirius’ eyes following him as he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted something here after 6 long years, wew. I really hope this is readable. The first 2 chapters will follow the original content somewhat, stuff changes in the second half.
> 
> Feedback via any one of AO3's multiple mechanisms is appreciated!


	2. The Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus is offered a new job. All good prophecies need to rhyme.

“I’m Luna,” the girl tells Remus as they walk towards the stables. “Lavender says you’re looking for my father. She’s a terrible gossip, you see. Ran out of Stan’s tavern screaming how an evil Witcher had arrived. But you don’t scare me.”

“You mentioned coin,” Remus reminds her.

“Yes,” she lifts the covering off the dead acromantula and inspects it. “I can tell you this: my father will have no use for this beast.”

“Your father, the alderman? He posted a flyer.”

“True,” Luna says airily, “But he’s looking for a graveir now.”

“Ah. That’s too bad, then.”

“But you should speak to Master Dedalus, our wizard. He’s willing to pay for odds and ends he needs for his elixirs. I sold him our owl when it died.”

Remus considers it for a moment. “All right, then. Take me to him.”

\--

Remus leads his horse, which is carrying the acromantula behind Luna. She’s a chatty little thing, and talking with children - or anyone, for that matter - for extended periods of time outside of slaying or sex is something he isn’t used to. He really hopes that he wouldn’t have to kill or fuck her.

“Have you ever killed a succubus?” Luna asks him. “Striga? Werewolf? _She-wolf_?”

“She-wolves don’t exist.”

She perks up at that. “So you have killed the rest! I think that makes you a hero. They say you’re the offspring of foul sorcery. A diabolic creation, a filthy degenerate born of Hell. Have you ever been to Hell?”

Remus thinks about telling her about the Trials, but then decides not to scare off the only native of Budleigh who doesn’t absolutely shit their pants at his existence.

* * *

The wizard’s tower is shaped like a rook and made of reddish-grey stone. Remus hands Moony’s reins to Luna, who immediately offers the horse one of her earrings as a snack.

Remus approaches the heavy iron gate and lifts his hand to knock. The air in front of him shimmers, the outlines of his hand edged in rainbow. There’s a low, resonating hum, a pleasant tinkling of windchimes. He knows this magic.

Remus glances back at Luna and Moony, who seem to be getting along swimmingly. He pushes through the door, and the enchantments shimmer and part around him like curtains in a breeze as he crosses into the wizard’s threshold.

The illusion that greets him at the foyer is a skilfully crafted thing. It’s a garden of hedonistic pleasures; sunny blue skies in a state of perpetual spring, the subtle scent of lavender and rose, exotic plants and vines laden with rich fruits, and nubile, naked men and women stretched out lazily on plump, patterned cushions.

“Greetings,” the master of the tower says, stepping into view. He’s a balding man with grey-brown hair, dressed in brown sorcerer’s robes. “I am Pettigrew. Master Pettigrew.”

“I have an acromantula for Master Dedalus.”

“Ah,” Pettigrew laughs pleasantly. “You’re looking at the right person, then. This tower was created by Dedalus, but he’s been dead two hundred years. He was a good friend of mine, and so in order to honour him, I’ve taken his name and continued serving the good people who come to me for help.”

Remus tips his head at the garden. “He help create this illusion too?”

“Ah, er, no. This is my own creation. Helps pass time more delightfully for an old man like myself, you see.”

Remus looks at the small, mousy man in front of him and thinks about the wards which had so readily let him in.

“You’re in hiding.”

Pettigrew smiles. “How very clever of you. Walk with me, Witcher.”

\--

“We don’t see many of your kind in Budleigh Babberton,” Pettigrew remarks as they walk through a narrow corridor towards the enchanted garden. He plucks an apple from a tree that’s also growing mangoes and inspects it.

“Not many of my kind left.”

“Ah yes, it’s a terrible tragedy, what happened. I’d offer you my condolences, but I seem to remember that Witchers don’t feel...anything. I’m grateful, then, that Destiny brought you to me.”

“Luna brought me to you,” Remus points out.

“Oh, Luna. A curious little lady, she is. Luna works for me, now and then. On matters of great import.”

“A reclusive sorcerer who uses an alias and hires a young girl to procure him a Witcher. You are the one who posted the flyer, not the alderman," Remus realises. The garden’s false sun is warm and pleasant on Remus’ skin. “You don’t want my monster. You want me to kill yours. ”

“Indeed. Very clever.”

“What kind?”

“The worst kind,” Pettigrew says gravely. “The human kind. Its name is Sirius.”

Remus raises his eyebrows. “Explain.”

“Destiny has many faces, Witcher. Mine, for example, is beautiful on the outside, but hideous on the inside. Now, she has stretched her bloody talons towards me.”

Remus grimaces. “I’ve never been a fan of potential employers speaking nonsense while making wise and meaningful faces. I’d rather you speak normally.”

“Right,” Pettigrew concedes with a smile and the apple in his hand fades away. “Have you ever heard of the Curse of the Black Sun? First full eclipse in twelve hundred years. It marked the return of Lilith. Demon goddess of the night, sent to exterminate the human race. According to sages much wiser than you or me, Lilith’s path was to be prepared by sixty women wearing gold crowns, who’d fill the river valleys with blood.”

“Huh,” Remus says after a moment. “Doesn’t rhyme. All good prophecies need to rhyme.”

Pettigrew steps closer to Remus. “I studied the girls born of royalty around the Black Sun, and I found horrendous internal mutations among them. I tried to cure them, to keep them safe from themselves, but, well. The girls always died under rather mysterious circumstances.”

“Internal mutations, you say?”

“They were autopsied, of course, to confirm my suspicions. But eliminating these women was the lesser evil.”

Remus can read between the lines. “So, what you’re saying is that innocent women are dead because of you.”

Pettigrew spreads his hands out. “I’m not proud of it, but it had to be done.”

“All except the beautiful one. Sirius. And now she’s after you.”

“She’s the daughter of King Orion of the north. You surely must be aware of what happened to his kingdom. I delivered the princess myself in the pitch black of the afternoon.”

“Right, under the Black Sun,” Remus says. He doesn’t bother hiding his disbelief. “So that makes her cursed.”

“Do you take me for a fool, Witcher?” Pettigrew snaps, all traces of good humour gone. “Do you think I did not conduct my research? Sirius was acutely affected. The pain of her birth drove her mother, Queen Walburga, into insanity. The king’s personal servant, Kreacher, told me that she had tortured a canary, strangled two puppies, and even almost gouged out Kreacher’s own eye with a comb!

“I admit what happened next was not ideal, but with the kingdom at stake, we had to act. I dispatched someone to follow Sirius out into the woods. My man was found dead in the brush, with Walburga’s antique brooch jammed in his ear. After that, I organized a manhunt to find the princess, but she was gone. She resurfaced twenty years later, not looking a day over twenty-five, having picked up notorious sword skills and the ability to channel the evil inside her for dark magic. No man can defy her, it is said.”

“You’re not a man,” Remus points out. “You’re a magician.”

“She’s resistant to magic.”

“That’s impossible in humans.”

“Not...mutated ones like Sirius. And, of course, yourself. Sirius has chased me for years, hellbent on revenge. And now she finds me in Budleigh just as you arrive. Three lives have converged here for this moment, Witcher. Would you not call this destiny?”

Remus doesn’t say anything.

“Kill her. I’ll pay you anything.”

“I only kill monsters.”

“The acromantula kills because it’s hungry, you kill to earn a living. But Sirius, Sirius kills to further her own personal grudges. She is the monster. She is the last of Lilith’s servants, and she possesses the power to destroy us all.”

Remus sighs, and turns to leave. “Frankly, I don’t believe anybody has that sort of power. Thank you for your time, Master Pettigrew, but I don’t believe I can be of much help to you here.”

“With the fate of the world at stake, is that a chance that you’re willing to take?” Pettigrew asks him desperately. “There’s your rhyme. Killing Sirius is the lesser evil.”

“Evil is evil, Pettigrew,” Remus says over his shoulder. “Lesser, greater, middling - it’s all the same. I’m not judging you. I have done a lot of things in my life that haven’t been all good either. But if I am to choose between one form of evil and another, I’d rather not choose at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot/dialogue diverge from Netflix!Witcher canon from the next chapter and we hear Sirius' side of things.
> 
> Feedback/corrections etc. welcome!


	3. The Sorceress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Sirius talk. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ END NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE UNFAMILIAR WITH THE IP. PLEASE.

Remus sets up camp by the stream in the forest, a small distance from the village boundaries. It doesn’t take long for Sirius to find him.

“That girl this morning,” she says, looking at him haughtily, wrapped in her rich red cloak. A fallen princess without a kingdom, Remus thinks, is still a princess. A queen, even. “She took you to Pettigrew, didn’t she?”

“Well, there’s no point in beating around the bush then now, is there?” Remus says. He unlaces his heavy boots and sinks his feet into the cool water of the rushing stream, unarmoured and only in his shirt and trousers. “I know who you are, Sirius.”

“So you know I want to kill Pettigrew, then.”

Remus hums noncommittally.

“I used to be a princess. Did he tell you that?”

“Said that you were a particularly twisted one.”

Sirius scoffs, genuinely offended. “Kreacher had always hated me. I think he had a raging boner for dear old Mum’s saggy tits, and never quite recovered from the shock of her losing her sanity. I was no more and no less cruel than other children of privilege. And privilege I had, until he sent a thug into the woods to kill me.”

“Maybe, but you killed _him_.”

“With my mother’s brooch," Sirius says. "Into the brain through the ear. I was thirteen.”

Remus stares at Sirius. She shrugs, unrepentant and sits down by the bank beside him.

“Pettigrew’s man raped me,” Sirius says after a while, matter-of-factly. Her dark hair falls into her eyes with casual elegance as she lobs a pebble into the water. “He raped me, robbed me, and let me go. No more princess. When he was inside me, I didn’t feel terror or disgust. Just anger. How dare he think himself worthy of touching _me_? Of trying to impregnate me with his foul semen? He had to be taught a lesson, and I had to survive.

My best friends took me in, saved me when I had nothing. They had a son, barely a year old. Little Harry. Was the spitting image of his father. Pettigrew killed them, all three of them, to get to me. I cannot forgive that either.”

“Some words about magic immunity were thrown in the mix too.”

“That’s because I _am_ magic, Remus. Some families are born with an affinity for magic, you surely know that. My blood is the purest of them all. Even despite that, I’m more Chaos than blood. I’m not immune to magic; just very good at defending myself from mediocre - and frankly insulting - spells.”

“You don’t look like much of a sorceress,” Remus says, not without some amount of surprise.

“Well, I, er, sort of operate outside the Order. I’m my own woman.”

Remus hums. “Well, there are ways to kill a sorceress other than magic, especially someone that isn’t bound to the rules of the Order.”

Sirius snorts. “He wouldn’t dare kill me himself. He’ll just run and run, like the spineless piece of shit that he is, and hide behind the skirts of men and women much greater than him. Too pussy to kill Minnie’s favourite, I suppose.”

“Minnie?”

“Minerva McGonagall. Surely you would have heard of her, Witcher.”

Remus looks at her sharply. “You went to Gryffindor, then.”

“I did.”

“Thought the wards don’t allow potential initiates in unless they’re virgins.”

“Found that out the hard way, didn’t I?” Sirius smiles icily. “Not only that, but turns out that I also was pregnant with that raping pig’s bastard child. Minnie was sympathetic and helped with the abortion, but she couldn’t help me enter. So I broke the goddamn unbreakable wards and forced my way through. She chucked me out. I broke in again. Told her I’d just keep breaking in unless she took me in.”

“That child was _you_?”

“The Order was quite impressed.”

“As was I, when I’d heard about it.”

“So, what about you?”

“About me?”

“Yeah, you know a fair bit about me. What about you?” She gestures with her chin at Remus’ medallion. “I know you’re one of Greyback’s boys.”

“I didn’t ask you to tell me about yourself.”

“You didn’t. I was just trying to humanize your next job. Oh, don’t make that face, Remus. Obviously, Pettigrew wants you to kill me for him.”

“Then you should also know that I turned him down.”

Sirius blinks in surprise. “What ever did you do that for? I’ve never fought with one of your kind. Pity, I was even looking forward to it at tomorrow’s market.”

“Petty human squabbles don’t interest me.”

Sirius snorts. “Just because someone bleeds when cut, cries when hurt and laughs when happy doesn't make them a human, Witcher. Your kind of all should know that. It just sounds to me that you're too scared of killing someone who can persuade you to take their side in an argument."

"Maybe you're right. But at the end of the day, it's still a petty human squabble I want no part in."

“Pettigrew’s no human.”

“Funny, he told me the same about you.”

Sirius barks out a laugh. “Funny, indeed. It’d be funnier if I could persuade _you_ to kill _him_ for _me._ ”

Remus looks at her incredulously. “Excuse me?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“You need to repeat your thinking process.”

“Pettigrew has experience on his side, but I have power. He will die regardless, Remus, as will you if you come after me. But you, you need money,” Sirius says, referring to their earlier conversation at the inn. “If not money, then a variety of powerful charms and tokens that can make your life easier. Think of it as charity.” She places a perfectly manicured hand on Remus’ knee and leans forward. His skin tingles from the phantom heat of her hand, her breath on his cheek. The breeze shifts, ever so subtly. “Why get my hands dirty when I can help a fellow traveller out, hm?”

Remus takes her hand - deceptively soft - and gently removes it from his knee. He gets up and begins to dry his feet, bracing himself against Moony for support. “I think you should leave, Sirius. We’re done here.”

“Are we, now?” Remus can _hear_ the pressure of her boots on silt as Sirius comes to stand behind him. She places a hand on his shoulder and it warms him to his very core. His feet steam where the water evaporates.

Remus turns to face her. Her hand trails down his arm as he does to rest around his wrist. “Aren’t we?”

“I don’t think so.” She’s tall, nearly as tall as him with her high-heeled boots, and almost otherworldly in her beauty. Perfection personified. Remus wonders how much of it she has grown into naturally, and how much of it is a product of her attempts at controlling her circumstances. Her _destiny_.

That doesn’t make her any less magnetic, though.

Remus licks his lips over the pounding, animalistic rush of blood in his ears. “Is this something I must thank Pettigrew for?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your propensity towards cornering the unaware in woods to have surprise sex with them.”

Sirius’ eyes narrow dangerously for a second. Then, surprisingly, she laughs. She takes a step closer and brings Remus’ fingers to the laces that tie the front of her tunic together. “Unaware? Hardly. You know we would have been in bed in my room at the inn by now, had it not been for Pettigrew’s girl.”

“Perhaps. Though I must say, I have never met anyone quite like you.”

“And you never shall.”

Darkness falls over them (not a problem for Remus’ enhanced senses) and Sirius snaps her fingers. Tiny butterflies woven of pure light bloom into existence, held in floating glass jars that cast flickering shadows on the forest floor as Sirius leans forward and kisses Remus. She smells exotic, of frangipani and sandalwood.

Remus can’t help the low growl that escapes his throat at the contact. He unlaces Sirius’ tunic, pushing it and her cloak off her shoulders to expose her breasts. She grinds herself against Remus’ achingly hard cock almost desperately as she makes quick work of Remus’ shirt. He pushes against her; she resists. He pushes again, this time with more force, and Sirius goes down on her back, taking him down with her. Thick bedding material unfurls out of nowhere to meet them before they hit the ground, and a few feet away, Moony snorts.

Sirius wipes the blood off her lips, pupils blown wide as Remus kneels over her. One of his hands is twirled into the glorious rippling fan of her hair. The other unbuckles his trousers to stroke his cock as he breathes in her scent, his skin on fire. Sirius spreads her long legs and reaches down between them to tease her clit.

“Come on, Golden Eyes,” she demands rakishly. “Show me the Witcher libido I’ve heard so much about.”

So Remus does.

Who is he to turn down a woman so unashamedly sure of herself, anyway?

* * *

That night, Remus dreams.

They’re a feverish, disorienting affair. He dreams of Sirius in whites and blacks and reds and searing heat. Of a small, solemn boy with green eyes. A village square drowning in a river of blood. Of Ancient whispers on the wind, of sorrow and rage and a reckless whirlwind of bone-vaporising power.

So much power...

Remus blinks awake. It’s already morning and he’s lying on the same bedding as last night. Said bedding is spotless and devoid of any signs of sex and a partner, though the faint scent of frangipani and sandalwood still lingers in the air. He sits up and looks around. All of his things are neatly arranged, and his armour looks much cleaner than it had been in a while.

Something niggles at the back of his brain.

Sirius, her mentions of today’s market, and his visions of a village square drowning in blood.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of past rape, abortion. Said rape is also treated flippantly briefly, although the concerned party has dealt with it in their own way & doesn't take offence.
> 
> I use humour to deal with, accept and heal from the experiences in my life, which gets translated here.
> 
> [**Back to Top**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22990456/chapters/59355286)


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